Beauty From Ashes
by moonlite982
Summary: 16 year old Willow Mellark has never understood her parents or the secrets that lay behind her family. But when secrets are finally revealed, she sees her family and life itself in a whole new light. She sees and feels the power of what true love can do and how its the only thing that can bring freedom, forgiveness and overall, healing. *oneshot*


_Hey everyone! So this short story has been on my mind for a while and I decided to go ahead and post it! It has nothing to do with my other stories Wild Fire and To Spark a Fire. So far its a oneshot but if it does good, I may write more :)_

***sorry if you followed the story and got a message about a new story. I wanted to add/change a few thank :}***

_Thanks for reading!_

Story inspired Something Heavenly by Sanctus Real  
**  
It's time for healing time to move on**  
**It's time to fix what's been broken too long**  
**Time make right what has been wrong**  
**It's time to find my way to where I belong**  
**There's a wave that's crashing over me**  
**All I can do is surrender**

* * *

The sun is setting here in District 12. Any other day I wouldn't think about it so much but the fact is, today _isn't _just another day. I sit in one of the highest trees looking over a land that I now see with a different pair of eyes. There's so much more than meets the eye in this district. So many ghosts that haunt these streets and even these woods. It's peaceful today but the past holds so much more than I could ever imagine.

My name is Willow Mellark; I'm 16 years old and about a week ago, my parents told me all the secrets that hide within this place and within our own family. At first, I didn't understand it and I didn't really believe it until I did my own investigating. I interviewed some of the older people that lived through the war. A lot of them were hesitant but most of them eventually opened up about everything…the wars, the deadly and ruthless Hunger Games that my parents were forced to fight in and survived, the rebellion my mom caused that led to more war and pain and…freedom? They reflected briefly about the Games but more so about my mom, the one who saved my father from the Capitol, the famous Katniss Everdeen, the Mockingjay that ended these terrible Games and paid a great price to do so.

I talked to Haymitch, who's been in our family for years. When I first asked him about it, he stopped what he was doing and turned around with a serious look. "So they finally told you about it?" he asked knowingly.

I nodded. "And I've talked to other people around here. They bragged more about mom and dad being celebrities but I don't think that's the whole story, is it?"  
Haymitch sighed in defeat and shook his head. "This day came way too soon." He whispered more to himself then walked over to a locked cabinet and took out a box full of tapes. He gave me a wary look. "I wouldn't be showing you these tapes if I didn't think you couldn't handle what was on here. But, you are your mother's child and I believe you're old enough to understand."

Without further question from me, he put the first tape in labeled, "Haymitch's Games". He paused before continuing. "This is the 50th Hunger Games, also known as the Quarter Quell. It's also the one I fought in and survived." I looked up at him with a curious look and he silently put the tape in.

I watched in horror how these Games worked. After the tape was finished, Haymitch continued to play my mother and father's Games, which took place in the 74th Hunger Games and in the next Quarter Quell, which ended up being the very last Hunger Games. The first person I recognized was my mother, bravely volunteering for her sister, Prim, I think was her name. Then my father, Peeta Mellark. I sat there for hours watching both of their Games, old interviews and recorded tapes of what went on during the war, the destruction of District 12, my father's capture, the fight to get him back to normal, the horrors of what happened at the Capitol, all the lives it took including my mother's sister and then finally the death of President Coin and President Snow.

So much information to take in all at once…I didn't know what to think any more, it was so surreal and kind of hard to believe but it explained so much that I never understood until now. I was no longer curious about all the scars on my parents. I understood now why my mother screams in the middle of the night and the fight it takes to wake her up from the horror she's trapped in. I know why she spaces out sometimes and is so hard to reach. Usually on those days Dad will take us out and try to do something to distract us so we can give her space. And Dad…I understood now why he tenses up and has to grip the chair when a painful, hijacked memory hits him. When Haymitch told me about what happened to him…I almost broke down. To think that anyone would hurt him…it tore me apart inside. My father, who has been my rock and my source of encouragement and comfort, it's hard to think of life without him. I could see why Mom gave up so much for him.

Mom on the other hand…I love her and admire her in so many ways but…we're not as close as I'd like to be and whereas before I used to resent her for that, I can now understand why and instead of being bitter, it's made me love her more. I know her sometimes harsh actions aren't intentional. She still carries so many burdens and is still deeply wounded. I can tell she wants to love me and be close with me but I know it's hard for her. I can understand why, though. She gave up her life for her sister just for it to be taken away so soon after. I know now that it's not because she doesn't truly love me, it's because she's afraid. Afraid to love me because she thinks I'll somehow be taken away, too. And I hate that. I hate that she has to live in that fear. I wish that I could somehow take it away.

The sun has almost gone completely down and I know that I have to get going soon. Climbing down in the dark I found was not the smartest thing to do. A sprained ankle confirmed my suspicions a while ago. Not wanting to go through that again, I make way down carefully until I am safely on the ground then I begin my half mile walk back home.

It's a peaceful walk. It gives me time to think and reflect. But this time, with each step my heart grows heavier. To add to the sorrow and haunting memories of watching the Hunger Games, the weight of guilt I carry now is worse. I've said so many hurtful things to my mom that I wish I could take back now. I resented her so much and treated her more like an enemy than I did a mother. I've been so busy being bitter towards her that I haven't really had a chance to truly love her. I complained about her screaming and scoffed at her when she spaced out. Come to think of it, I probably caused more wounds than I did heal them.

All these things weighed heavily on my heart and by the time I reached home, I felt almost too ashamed to even open the door. As I enter, I'm greeted by the sight of my mother setting the dinner table. Dad looks up curiously then greets me with a warm smile, which I return. I take my place at the table, which is next to my twelve year old brother, Samuel. A pang of realization hits me. If Mom hadn't done all she'd done, then Sam and I could've easily been in the same situation. She gave everything she had for our freedom.

It takes all my strength not to leave the table. Every time I look at her, I want to cry. I'm seeing her in a whole new light and I'm filled with so many emotions. Guilt, respect, sorrow, admiration…etc. My eyes grow heavy with tears and I have to quickly wipe them away before anyone notices. However, nothing gets past my father and he gives me a worried look. I shake my head and try to give reassuring smile but it's impossible for me to smile right now. I have so many things weighing on my heart, so many things that I want to say but can't bring myself to say them.

After a while, we're finishing our food and Dad, reading me like a book, gives me a nod in Mom's direction, who is now washing dished, signaling for me to talk to her. I begin to shake with nerves but answer him with my eyes.

Getting the message, he gets Sam's attention and tells him it's time for bed. Sam, yawning, doesn't object and gives Mom and I a hug and kiss goodnight. Once they're upstairs, I try to find the courage to speak to her. I'm suddenly intimidated by my own mother and I find it extremely hard to speak up. I try to start by handing her my dishes but my throat goes dry and the words just won't come. I almost walk away but stop at the doorway and watch her. I can tell she's having one of her bad days. She's extremely quiet and when she rinses the soap from her hands and begins to dry them, she stops and begins to trace the scars that are embedded deep into her hands. The look on her faces shows that she's deep in thought and isn't really aware that I'm watching her. But I am and inside, it's killing me. When I would normally ignore her, I can now feel her pain and I want nothing more than to take it all away.

But I stand trapped at the doorway, too scared to move from my place. Silent tears fall freely as I feel helpless and unable to reach her. I don't how long I'm standing there when suddenly I feel a familiar warm, gentle hand squeeze my shoulder. I look at him, tears staining my face and he quietly pulls me into his arms. I find comfort in this embrace but something's off. It's not complete. It's not enough. My eyes never leave my mother, who's still caught up her in her horror filled memories and out of nowhere, I gain the courage to let go of my father and slowly make my way over to her. I look to him for confidence and he nods. My feet have a way of their own and before I know it, I'm in front of my mother, who's still tracing her scars. My hand reaches out and I gently repeat my gesture. She's looking at me now, not understanding my odd behavior but I never meet her eyes. I take in every detail of her wounds and more tears gather in my eyes. Her hand is shaking in mine and I look up and see that her own eyes are filled tears. I examine them closer and I can see that though there is so much pain in them, there is something else. Hope. A faint flame that's almost burnt out but it's there and that's all that matters. And it's that little flame that gives me the courage to do the very thing that I've yearned for so long. Love.

My father always told me that actions speak louder than words and that's good because I can't offer any words right now. There's nothing I can say that will completely heal her. She's probably heard it all before anyway. But my actions…I sincerely hope that my actions will help heal wounds of the past and the wounds that I caused.

I gently squeeze her hand then pull her towards me, wrap my arms around her thin waist and bury my face into her shoulder like a child. She stiffens at first, caught off guard but then relaxes and pulls me closer and holds me as tight as she can. It's then that I feel what I've longed for. My mother's love. It's fierce, sad, beautiful and intense all at the same time. I can only hope that she feels the same thing. I hug her tighter as sobs begin to rack my whole body. It's impossible to stop. She's shaking hard and I can feel the soft pitter patter of her tears on my shoulder.

Finally, a few simple words come to my lips and pulling back ever so slightly, I whisper softly in her ear. "I love you." And for the first time, I truly mean them.

I can't take back all the harsh words that I've said, they've already done their damage. But something inside me says that tonight is a night of new beginnings. Enough of the hate. Enough of the bitterness and resentment. It all causes nothing but more pain and I think my family has had enough. It's time for healing.

She breaks after this and is now sobbing into my shoulder as she repositions us to where her one hand is wrapped tightly around my waist and the other holding my head close to her chest. I let her cry and with her tears, I can feel the healing beginning to take place.

After a while, I feel my father's arms grab a hold of us. We're all crying but it's a good thing. It's cleansing all of our pain and all our wounds. We may have looked ridiculous to other people but right now, none of that matters. We needed more than words.

We needed healing, forgiveness, hope and love.


End file.
